


Stain

by poinsettas



Category: BROCKHAMPTON (Band)
Genre: Introspection, Light Angst, Light Pining, M/M, just light everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 08:59:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16082810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poinsettas/pseuds/poinsettas
Summary: She’s not really Matt’s type. He’s an authentic dude, one of those people who gets too spaced out to really be that interested in anything that isn’t in his focus, and right now his focus is solely on whatever’s been getting him all mopey.Merlyn is Matt’s type.He knows this because one time Kevin asked Matt what he looked for in a partner and Matt had hesitated before sheepishly admitting he liked funny people. People who could make him laugh, bring him out of the fog that sometimes set into the folds of his brain and kept him from writing lyrics and flirting with the hot 7-11 cashier.





	Stain

**Author's Note:**

> i got a lotta feelings about a lotta things

There are a million better things Merlyn could be spending his time on right now. 

Writing lyrics being one, that was what he was supposed to be doing, but Matt is sitting across from him on the faded blue couch Romill got for five bucks at a yard sale when they had first moved in, with that vacant look that always means something more on his face. He hasn’t moved to write anything down in well over an hour now. He hasn’t moved at all really, besides the rise and fall of his breathing. 

And Merlyn isn’t watching him or anything like that, he’s not a fucking creep, but he knows how Matt gets in his head about things and how difficult it can get to drag him back to reality. 

“Come with me,” he says, standing up so there isn’t any room for disagreements. 

“Where are we going,” Matt asks, dutifully putting his shoes back on without untying the laces because he’s one of those people that doesn’t want to waste the energy to ever tie them. 

Merlyn hadn’t thought that far ahead, but the room had started to feel a little bit small for the two of them and he wants some space to think. 

He could use a smoke, and so could Matt really. 

The walk to the 7-11 is short because it’s LA and there’s a corner store on every corner, as it should be.

Merlyn gets a box of condoms, two packs of honey Blackwoods, and a cherry Slurpee. 

Matt doesn’t question the purchases. All he buys for himself is a new hot pink Bic that the girl behind the cash register ends up giving him for free because the system won’t ring it up or something.

She’s cute; tan skin, long eyelashes, those arched eyebrows that are popular right now. Merlyn bets that she buys her bras at Victoria’s Secret and watches those makeup videos on Instagram in her free time. 

He would get her number if she wasn’t already so ridiculously infatuated with Matt that she barely even gives him a second glance, sometimes it’s hard hanging with the oblivious pretty boy. 

She’s not really Matt’s type. He’s an authentic dude, one of those people who gets too spaced out to really be that interested in anything that isn’t in his focus, and right now his focus is solely on whatever’s been getting him all mopey. 

Merlyn is Matt’s type. 

He knows this because one time Kevin asked Matt what he looked for in a partner and Matt had hesitated before sheepishly admitting he liked funny people. People who could make him laugh, bring him out of the fog that sometimes set into the folds of his brain and kept him from writing lyrics and flirting with the hot 7-11 cashier.  
And Matt has, on multiple occasions, claimed that Merlyn is the funniest person he knows. 

He says it when he’s drunk with tears in his eyes after Merlyn’s done something stupid enough to make him cry with laughter. When his smile is big and goofy and takes over his entire face. When Merlyn thinks he might want to see his face look like that more often. 

Not that the moody bitch look doesn’t have it’s perks, evidently. 

Merlyn doesn’t feel very funny, not really. He knows he’s loud, the kind of loud that draws eyes in public spaces. He knows he’s unique, the kind of unique that also draws eyes in public spaces. He knows he’s too much, and you guessed it, the kind of too much that draws eyes in public spaces. None of those qualities scream funny at him, it’s just who he is, but Matt likes it. 

Matt has never thought he was too much. 

Merlyn kind of thinks that Matt likes how bright he can get, he always liked being in the shadows a bit more than the rest of them. 

In the slowly setting Los Angeles’ sun Matt smiles at him, a small but confident one that reaches his eyes, and takes a sip of Merlyn’s Slurpee. 

It stains his tongue as red as the setting sky. 

Merlyn’s must look the same.


End file.
